


drabbles

by ohliamylia



Category: New World Magischola (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohliamylia/pseuds/ohliamylia
Summary: Unfinished moments in and around time.





	drabbles

“Eames, you’re here, after Davenport…”

Juniper’s never given much thought to the last names of her classmates, beyond cataloging the Isle families so she knows who to avoid.

“How _do_ you spell it? Mr. Hathaway, you’re first, then.”

Upon reflection, she’s never had a third-year class with an Avila, or an Alkanameyer, or even an Akeldama. As Professor Crowninshield shuffles them around into a tidy, alphabetical line along the wall of the chapel, the implications of those lacking letters settle into Juniper’s stomach, making it sink lower and lower.

“Cohete, just up here… and Berry, you’re at the front.”

Further down, too far to reach, Juniper catches Calico’s eye - or she thinks she must, it’s hard to tell behind the sunglasses, but the thumbs-up he gives probably isn’t meant for Jasmin Cohete. Juniper rolls her eyes and stands a little straighter, trying to pretend that she's proud of her name, that being the first in line to receive her diploma from Chancellor Greer isn’t unbearably stressful.

* * *

Somewhere - in a drawer, maybe, or in a lockbox, somewhere _special so she’ll remember_ \- somewhere Wander has a notebook. It has a sibling, a slim black journal with a _K_ on the front and a section of pages filled with Juniper’s messy scribbles about time magic. They’d worked mostly in that one, at first, trying to recall every year, each name, all the spoilers. Eventually, cowing under Kyn’s exasperation, she’d bought her own, and used it to map out - herself. _2020_ , one page said, with things like _marriage_ and _Calico??_ floating around it. _WANDER,_ scrawled across two pages, with thoughts spiderwebbing off it: _last name?_ and _I travel_ and _professor_ and _nice?_

The wedding party unanimously, exhaustedly, agrees to move the reception to the fireplace. Wander puts her feet up, absently accepting a flute of champagne, staring into the fire and wondering why she’d scheduled her wedding for this weekend when there’s a whole section of the notebook dedicated to this disastrous winter retreat. Every clue noted, every ritual component documented, diagrams and concentric circles copied over from Kyn’s journal. If she had known this was coming, why…?

She opens her mouth to ask, and a glass clinks against hers as Calico sits on the arm of her chair.

Throughout the years, as a certain year or event pinged something in her memory, Wander would check the notebook and mark something off as having occurred. She’d write Kyn, or call them on the Catoptrics network. They’d share a _yeah, that makes sense now_ and catch up on things, whatever country Wander was in or the sparse details of Kyn’s confidential work with the Bureau. And every time they tripped over a benchmark in time, every time they took a step closer to their own supposed destiny, another page in the back of the notebook would fill, joining paragraphs and years of anxious speculation over what had changed, what would. Would they ever become professors? Would Calico ever become less of an ass?

She’d have to find it - maybe get Calico to do a tracking spell - and update it. Yes, and yes.

“We met here,” Wander says, and takes a sip of her champagne as Calico does. “Last night, and… Merlin, forty-seven years ago.” She strains to remember, recalling Juniper’s meticulous documentation of it as much as the actual event itself. She remembers Calico, sitting at her side, asking what she wanted to do after she graduated. She’d never thought about it before, having focused for so long on just getting to where she was. How victorious she’d felt, when she thought: _I could leave. I could go anywhere._ “Someone - was that Violetta? - someone asked if I’d had the chance to meet Kyn’s cousin yet, and not five minutes later you walked in.”

She hadn’t known, at the time, what to make of the strange expression on his face when their eyes met. She’d pretended not to hear him asking after her. _Don’t let him charm you_ , Kyn had warned her. _Ground rules_. Juniper hadn’t been concerned. He was a Virginia Isle Hathaway - he wouldn’t want to.

She wonders if she should mention her nervous breakdown a week after they returned, that she threw away her newly-purchased notebook and begged Kyn to wipe her memories of the weekend. It was too much weight on her shoulders, knowing what Calico was going through, and knowing that she couldn’t help because future-Calico had specifically outlined that she _didn’t_ for decades. At a time in her life when she desperately wanted to be useful for something, it was a blow to her self-worth to have fate stand in the way.  
  


* * *

She envisioned that returning to her home time would feel like a pull, a snap, elastic bands all stretched out of alignment and then let go, but instead it just feels like walking through a doorway and forgetting why - a little off, while everything else moves on as normal. Beside her, Kyn looks deep in thought.

Calico looks as unfazed as ever. But maybe that’s just the sunglasses. He pulls a flask from his pocket, and Juniper feels her stomach twist.

“I’m gonna throw up,” she blurts out, and nearly trips down the stairs to the nearest bathroom. When she emerges later, eyes red, Kyn is waiting for her with a glass of water.

“Let’s go sit,” they say, nodding toward the fireplace. “We’re still technically on vacation.”

“I need to talk to Calico,” Juniper admits tremulously, taking the glass of water and wiping tears from her eyes. Kyn’s stare is so level and serious that somehow, Juniper finds it grounding.

* * *

Wander kicks up her feet on the ottoman and accepts a proferred flute of champagne. There’s a faint smudge of rust brown on the white of her dress near her knee and she finds she deeply, deeply does not care anymore. Another glass clinks against hers as Calico perches on the arm of her chair.

“How much did, um.” Juniper stares intently into the glass clutched between her fingers, reluctant to make eye contact. “How much do you… know?”

In her peripheral vision, she sees Kyn’s eyebrows raise. “How much do _you_ know?”

“What are we talking about?” Calico asks, and Kyn grimaces so hard that Wander needs to raise her glass to her forehead, letting the condensation cool her anxiety.


End file.
